


The Attractiveness Index

by Fores_Shikaki



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bad English, M/M, Mindless Fluff, awkward conversation, how to flirt with a nerdy lover, insensitive!Q, jealous!Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fores_Shikaki/pseuds/Fores_Shikaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love makes one a fool… well not falling doesn't necessarily make one any smarter.</p>
<p>Beta'd by the wonderful <a href="../users/Quarby/pseuds/Quarby">Quarby</a>! <33</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Attractiveness Index

**Author's Note:**

> First post X3  
> Not a native speaker... actually I have never been to any English-speaking country:"(  
> But I'd love to work on this beautiful language, so any help/advice is deeply appreciated!!

“You don’t get it.” Bond sighs. He’s been circling around in his quartermaster’s office for half an hour, still nowhere near finishing his mission of _clearing things up_.

“I don’t, but largely due to your failure in making clear interpretations, double-oh seven.” Q says calmly behind his white tea cup, which looks ridiculously large compared to his small, _adorable_ face… No, Bond knows he has to stop this madness right NOW.

“Okay, okay. This guy… this… new agent, Thomas, he’s been trying to flirt with you. And unless you wish to end up in his bed the next morning, don’t say yes to his dinner invite.” Bond watches carefully as Q’s expression changes from confusion to shock to blankness. “Oh, I forget, you might want to Google that word, it’s f-l-…”

“Of course I know what flirting means, double-oh seven.” Q’s face remains blank, but Bond can tell when Q is cross. This is bad. “Smart with computers does not necessarily make me stupid with people.”

“I’m sorry.” Bond compresses his lips apologetically. He can’t believe how clumsy he can get when dealing with someone he actually cares.

Q sighs, putting his cup away and starting to arrange the folders on his desk. “So that’s why you have stayed here for this long? To tell me not to dine with our new hire?”

_I’d rather you avoid them all. Not just Thomas, but also Nick, Paul, Cassidy, Jason, Jerry… all those bloody bastards who try to woo you with their stupid winks and smirks and…_

“I’m just trying to tell you that sometimes it’s hard to distinguish sincere friends from flattering ones.”

“So you must be my _sincere_ friend, Mr. Bond.” An ironic smile, bright eyes shine with intelligence, again the very definition of _adorable_ , for Bond can’t think of a more proper word.

“I am.” He can’t help but smile a little, like a fool indeed.

“However, judging by the content of our conversation, cross-referenced with my degree of attractiveness, I am reasonably optimistic that Mr. Thomas’ invitation for dinner is nothing but a symbol of friendship.”

“That’s not true. Wait- your what?”

“Do you mean my degree of-”

“Yes, that. What the hell is that?”

“It’s a non-fixed index I calculated to measure one’s influence in terms of romantic attraction, based on social conventions, common aesthetic standards, and interpersonal skills etc. In my case, features such as pale, lanky, nerdy, computer-maniac, are not considered attractive in most cultures…”

Bond is already beginning to laugh.

“…By the way my point is 23, out of a maximum of 100. Please don’t laugh at me or spread this to everyone else, I’d like a little privacy.” Q finishes with a quirk of his eyebrow, utterly confused by Bond’s sudden burst of joy.

“You’re such a- you have a much better score in my version of the index.”

“Well, an index has to be based on commonly-accepted facts rather than personal judgment, but thank you.”

“So you’re going to that dinner anyway.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be waiting outside the restaurant, if anything happens, you call me.”

“What?? Why is that, double-oh seven, I don’t see your point.”

“Think of it as a bet. If he doesn’t make a move on you, I lose.”

“What’s the stake?”

“I’ll return your gadget in one piece next time, if I lose.”

“One functional piece.”

“Sure, one FUNCTIONAL piece. If you lose, let me buy you dinner.” He automatically puts on the smile that never fails to charm his marks.

Which is, in this situation, destined to be futile as Q indifferently reasons: “why do you make a bet that you lose in both cases?”

“Hard for you to understand, but actually I don’t.”

 

\---

 

“I assume I win?” Bond smiles wryly as he follows Q’s furious step.

He has been waiting for twenty minutes when Q suddenly rushes out of the restaurant, face even paler than usual.

Q continues to walk rapidly as if something is biting at his feet, his lips a thin line, slightly trembling.

They both ignore the shouting noise from behind.

Q hugs himself tight in his overcoat, from behind Bond finds his willowy frame a lovely scene in the howling winter wind.

He waits patiently until Q finally speaks.

“He tried to… kiss me I think.”

“How very unreasonable of him.”

“Quite so. It was totally out of the blue. I still don’t get it now, how did you know it? – I mean, you said something about…” Q talks like he's trying to catch up with his speed of walking. There is still not much expression to be found on his face, but Bond takes a careful mental note of how his quartermaster looks in panic.

“Leave it to me. You don’t have to worry about that. Next time a man tries to take advantage of you, I’ll make sure you know.”

“You would do that? Well thank you, double-oh seven.” Q stops, eyes wide in awe, as if Bond has promised to bring him the moon. But the better part comes when he hugs Bond.

Bond groans inwardly. The sensation of that lithe, warm body pressed against his is perfect.

“I guess I’m still not very good with people, then. I tried.”

Bond knows immediately that this is not something Q normally would say, so he hugs back, pulling the younger man closer, marveling at how his hands could fully wrap around the narrow waist. He feels pathetic when thinking that _they must be made for this._ Even with Vesper he hasn't been down to superstitious.

“Like I said, I’m a sincere friend. Or more, if you’d like me to be.”

“I’m sorry, but are you implying something?” For a moment Bond thinks Q will retreat, but slender fingers lingering on his lapel reassure him otherwise. After all, he wouldn’t have pushed this far if Q did not appear to be extra anxious every time he was in danger in a mission, or that he’s the only one Q would allow to lounge around in his office for no decent reason.

“You don’t have to respond to that if you don’t want to.” Pause. “You know I’ll never try to fool you with things that you might not understand.”

And there is a feather-like touch on his lips. Q smiles, cheeks a little bit flushed, hair a helpless mess that covers half of his eyes (and those eyes are smiling too).

“I’m sorry, but does that imply something?” Bond teases.

“Oh shut up.” They both laugh.

 

\---

 

“By the way, how much do I score in your index?” They are on their way home from dinner, when Bond asks.

“97. Don’t flatter yourself; it has nothing to do with my personal opinion.”

“What happened to those three points?"

“Well, one for bad temper, one for reluctance of showing up, and the other for sleeping with too much women.”

“Do you feel jealous about the last one?”

“Do I have to?”

“No,” Bond grins, “No you don’t.” He takes Q’s hand in his. “And did I forget to mention your score just improved from 99 to 100 in my personal index?”

“I wonder what I have done to deserve such a significant growth.”

“For being mine.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, what have I just…  
> *go back and add "mindless fluff" to tags*


End file.
